


It's Time to Take Grandpa's Insta Away

by Meilan_Firaga



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidental Exposure, Established Relationship, Humor, I'm sorry Chris Evans, Inappropriate Humor, It was just too easy, Multi, Polyamory, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:09:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27181597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meilan_Firaga/pseuds/Meilan_Firaga
Summary: Steve's working on the technology thing. He really is. He doesn't even mess up all that often. He only typed something he'd intended to search on Google into a comment one time. When he did screw up, though, he screwed upbig. And everyone got an eyeful of exactly how big.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov/Sam Wilson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14
Collections: Fic In A Box





	It's Time to Take Grandpa's Insta Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flipflop_diva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/gifts).



**~*~*~ Sam ~*~*~**

Living the life of a superhero wasn’t easy. There was no real way to tell when a super level emergency might pop up, which meant that every opportunity for downtime had to be utilized to the fullest extent. For the most part the Avengers tried to spend all their free time with their loved ones, but when all your loved ones were also Avengers you had to make sure and take some of that time to just be away from them for a bit. Steve was out on a mission with Wanda, so while Sam Wilson had spent most of the weekend with their other partner the two of them had agreed to take Monday for themselves.

For Sam ‘me time’ translated to a solo matinee at a small theater two towns over from the upstate facility. It never mattered much to him which movie was showing. He was just happy to sit in the dark, focus on a story that was over when the credits rolled, and munch on some pricey snacks. The workers had gotten to the point where they knew him, and because they were so happy to be able to say between themselves that The Falcon was coming to their little venue they were very protective of his privacy. He never had to worry about people asking for selfies and autographs, and they always took care to recommend the most empty showings that he hadn’t seen. The teenage girl who worked concessions—Iris, by her name tag—had memorized his usual order. By the time he got done at the ticket counter she always already had his popcorn, nachos, and soda lined up and ready to go.

He suspected there was a ‘Falcon Theater Guidebook’ in an office somewhere in the building, but he couldn’t find it in him to mind.

Sam sat dead center in the back row. The theater had terraced levels for the seats, and the back row gave him a view of all the exits without worrying about someone being behind him where he couldn’t see. The part of him that ran all the talks at the VA could admit that his insistence on the spot was partly a result of his lingering traumas, but while he was there he always chose instead to pretend it was just pickiness about his view. The film was action this time. The physics were all kinds of off, the dialogue was cheesy, and most of the plot was just another way to make the male lead look like a badass. He loved it, naturally. 

Half an hour in, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He always had the volume off when he was at the movies, but he couldn’t risk not keeping it on vibrate. He held his breath when he felt the first jolt, waiting to see if it would follow the pattern for a phone call or just be the short pulse of some other notification. It turned out to be short and he relaxed. Then it buzzed again. And again. And kept buzzing.

Concerned, he gathered his snacks and stomped down the steps, tossing the trash in a bin as he went. He fished the phone from the front pocket of his jeans while sipping from his drink and opened the device with his thumbprint. His eyes widened as incoming social media notifications flashed across the screen in time with the phone’s buzzing. The Avengers group chat was going wild. He flipped open his text messages and scrolled down to the very first one that he’d hoped was something small.

_ I think I screwed up. _

Snorting, Sam backed out of the text from Steve and opened the group chat. He scrolled back to the first new message since before he’d gone into the movie. His eyes went wide at the screenshot from Tony. And then he began to laugh. Loudly. He had to lean against a wall to keep himself upright. All the while his phone continued to shake with incoming notifications.

Still laughing and with tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, Sam opened a text to Natasha.

**~*~*~ Instagram Live Story - Kadey Kane, Beauty Influencer ~*~*~**

_ The camera opens to an image of Kadey’s shocked face. Her make-up is halfway finished, her bubblegum pink hair piled on top of her head in a sloppy bun with dark brown roots showing through. She’s wearing a worn Captain America t-shirt. The shirt has a few holes around the collar. _

_ “Oh my god,” she begins before pausing to search for words. “Please tell me I am not the only one who saw that.” She blinks and raises both hands into the frame. “I mean, that cannot have been a hallucination. My imagination is not that great. I mean, I’m simultaneously drooling and terrified.” _

_ She picks up the camera and lifts it closer to her face. “Falcon and WIdow? Y’all are some lucky bitches.” _

**~*~*~ Natasha ~*~*~**

Natasha settled back into the bath, sighing in contentment as the heat from the water seeped into her tired muscles. The apartments in the Avenger’s facility in upstate New York weren't quite as swanky as the Tower suites Stark built for the original team, but she’d made sure a luxurious place to soak was a major feature. The master bathroom of the apartment she shared with Sam and Steve was built with the logistics of being shared by three people in mind. Three sinks were well-spaced across a wide countertop beneath an enormous vanity mirror. Instead of a small shower stall there was a glass enclosed room to one side with three rainfall showerheads in the ceiling. At Natasha’s insistence, they had two toilets tucked into enclosed water closets behind doors in one wall instead of in the open space of the bathroom.

The piece de resistance, though, was the massive jacuzzi tub. It was honestly big enough for four people and set into a raised platform of stone opposite the shower. There were steps cut into the stone with rubber mats on top of each one to prevent slipping. The bath itself was a large, black, glossy thing with jets and a built in thermostat to keep the water at the perfect temperature no matter how long the occupants chose to soak. It was a tub to make anyone jealous.

When she settled in to relax, Natasha always did her best to make the most of the space. The edges of the tub were lined with candles. The overhead lights were dimmed, and a thick coat of scented bubbles covered the entire surface of the water. A rolled towel was beneath her neck as a pillow. The overhead speakers were playing the soundtrack to a fantasy epic she liked. Steve was on a small mission with Wanda in England, and Sam was off on one of his usual afternoon movie solo adventures. It was the perfect way for her to relax while she had the place to herself.

And then her phone began to buzz.

At first it was a single notification. A few seconds later, it buzzed with another. For the next ten minutes, Nat watched with trepidation as her phone vibrated its way through text and app notifications so rapidly that it rattled all over the counter. Only the raised lip at the counter’s edge kept it from tumbling to the floor. 

When the incoming messages didn’t stop after fifteen straight minutes Natasha dragged herself from the comfort of the water. She dried her hands on a towel and padded across the room, leaving a trail of water droplets in her wake. The phone screen was still lighting up, new notifications continuing to ping. Sixty-eight Instagram notifications. Two hundred and seventeen Twitter mentions. Eighty-three messages in the Avengers group chat. Twenty-seven text messages from Tony Stark. And it was still merrily buzzing away.

Warily, she opened the text app. The most recent text from Tony contained nothing but eggplant emojis. She didn’t even bother to open the conversation. There were sixteen texts from Sam, so she checked that first. They were all some variation of “babe, did you see it?” with varying degrees of urgency and a smattering of laughing emojis peppered throughout. 

At the bottom of the list of recent messages was the one that had clearly been sent before the rest of the notifications began. It was a single text. From Steve.

_ I think I screwed up. _

**~*~*~ MTV’s SuperWatch, - That Night ~*~*~**

_ “Hey there, hero fans!” The blonde man grins at the camera as it starts to pull back away from his face. “I’m Macaulay Culkin and this is SuperWatch.” The camera stops pulling back when all of his head and the top half of his torso are in view. He’s wearing a t-shirt emblazoned with Captain America’s shield and the words ‘Built Like the Captain’. “I know what you guys are thinking, and trust me when I say that we’re thinking it too: God Bless America, because we know somebody definitely blessed our favorite Captain.” _

_ His grin gets a little wider, a little cheekier, and the camera pulls back a little more. Beneath the shield on his shirt is an arrow made out of duct tape pointing down toward his belt. “The Avengers’ PR team might have yanked it down as soon as it popped up, but I don’t think any of us are ever going to forget just how super the good captain is in every place that counts!” _

**~*~*~ Brooklyn ~*~*~**

The apartment in Brooklyn was the Avengers’ best kept secret—which was impressive given that hundreds more people knew about it than any of their other secrets. Everyone for a two block radius knew exactly who spent time in that apartment, though none of them would ever be caught admitting to it. The owner of the bodega on the bottom floor of the building was the secret’s best enforcer. If you tell someone about The Resident, you’re guaranteed to get a thirty percent price hike on all of your purchases and the most nasty, uncomfortable glares of your life. Permanently. In the years since the apartment was set up there had not been a single security breach. 

“Remember what we talked about,” Natasha hissed as she and Sam made their way down the street, their faces hidden beneath ball caps with the brims pulled low and large pairs of sunglasses. “Today is not the day to give him shit. He is fragile and embarrassed. Today we support and once he’s not being so pouty you can ride him about it.”

“There is no way in hell the both of us are gonna get through this without cracking a single joke,” Sam insisted, reaching around her to tug open the door leading into the building. 

Nat stopped two steps inside and favored him with a withering stare. “You’re dreaming if you think I’m not going to be the one cracking the single joke we’re allowed today.” She turned and started up the stairs without waiting for a reply.

“That’s cold.” With a shake of his head Sam followed her up to the third floor and down to the end of the hall to door 3E. The apartment was at the rear of the building, farthest from the major entry points with windows that only faced the backlot. 

They didn’t bother to knock. Natasha dropped to one knee in front of the door and made quick work of the lock with a set of tools from her back pocket. The door creaked open to reveal a darkened living room. The room was as neat as a pin. Even the open floor plan kitchen to one side was perfectly clean. The only indication that someone was living there was a neat stack of empty pizza boxes next to the trash can. A stack that was actually taller than the trash can. Their target was definitely in residence.

They found Steve in the back bedroom. Not much of him was visible, but it was hard to mistake the Dorito-with-legs shaped lump beneath the patchwork quilt Sam’s nana had sent him the previous Christmas. The television was on, a marathon of old black and white films flashing across the screen. The lamp on the nightstand had been moved to the floor to make space for two more pizza boxes, one of which was open and contained nothing but strips of crust.

“ _ Bozhe moy _ ,” Natasha swore. She tossed her hat and glasses to one side. “This is worse than I thought.”

The lump of Steven in the middle of the bed twitched, drawing tighter into a ball of misery.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Sam agreed. He made short work of tossing off his own accessories while stepping out of his tennis shoes. “This looks like a scene out of a nineties teen movie.” He stripped off his jacket, crossed the carpet to the bed, and flopped dramatically on top of Steve. “All it’s missing is a montage of him staring mournfully out windows set to an alt-rock soundtrack.”

“Maybe an annoying kid sibling for good measure,” Nat added. She circled around to the far side of the bed, wrenched up the edges of the quilt, and started to wiggle her way beneath it. Sam grabbed a handful of fabric and pulled up to give her a more room to maneuver, leveraging his weight against the super-soldier’s broad shoulders to move him off the blanket’s edge. 

Steve’s whole body flinched when Nat managed to make contact. “Why are you hands always so cold?” he whined, his voice muffled against the pillow.

“She’s Russian,” Sam snorted. He rolled to his stomach atop Steve’s back, draping his arms across the quilt-covered lump of the both of them. “You can’t hide out here forever, man. Not over something so silly.”

There was a strange, feminine groan beneath the blanket that gave Sam a bare second’s warning that he’d said the wrong thing before Steve became a blur of motion. Sam flailed to keep from falling off the bed as Steve popped up to a sitting position, throwing the quilt away from himself and Natasha. His eyes were red-rimmed and a little puffy, though there didnt appear to be any recent tears on his face. Several days of beard growth lined his jaw. His hair stuck up on one side and was mashed flat on the other. There were pillow creases on the side of his face.

“Something so silly!?” he repeated, his voice cracking on the last word. “I exposed myself to the entire world! I’ll never be able to show my face again!”

“Oh, please,” Natasha scoffed. She wound her entire body around him, snaking around his back in a way that let her pillow her cheek against one thigh while she wrapped her feet completely around the other. “I don’t have enough digits to count the number of times Tony’s exposed himself. And that’s just since he became Iron Man. There were so many more incidents before that.” She smirked up at him, one hand stroking his knee comfortingly. “Pepper keeps scrapbooks of the coverage.”

Sam climbed over Steve’s left leg to situate himself between the other man’s spread thighs. “She’s got a point. Besides, in this day and age this stuff happens more often than you’d think. Pretty soon some celebrity or politician will do something off the wall and it’ll all be forgotten.”

“I won’t forget it,” Steve mumbled, refusing to look at them. “I’m supposed to be a hero. Moral and upright. Not the kind of guy that even takes those kinds of pictures, much less throws them up on the internet for the whole world to see.”

They both reached out and pinched him, identical frowns on their faces. 

“We have talked about sex positivity and how it does not make you a fundamentally amoral person,” Sam scolded, his serious therapist face on. “So you can just toss that 1940s excuse right out the window.”

Steve shook his head like he was trying to come up with another reason, but one of his hands fell to Nat’s shoulder and he just sort of crumbled. He folded forward, his head coming to rest at Sam’s collarbone, and took a great, shuddering breath. They waited patiently while he shook and tried to get his breathing under control— Sam with his arms around his shoulders while Nat continued hugging his thigh, turning her head occasionally to nuzzle against his knee. Steve buried one hand in Natasha’s hair, the other clutching Sam’s shoulder tightly. Finally he seemed to get himself in check, and he pulled away From Sam’s chest just enough to place a kiss against his jaw.

“Mmmm,” Sam hummed. He tightened his hands reflexively in the fabric of Steve’s shirt. “You start that up and we’re going to end up doing exactly the kind of things people in the 40s thought were amoral.”

“Sorry,” Steve murmured. “Not my intention.”

“Was it your intention when you took that picture?” Nat purred, finally unwrapping herself from around Steve in order to wiggle in between them. She sat between the two of them, her hips bracketed by Sam’s thighs while she wrapped her legs around Steve’s waist. “You haven’t told us what you were trying to do when you uploaded it to Instagram, you know.” 

The flush that rushed into Steve’s cheeks was a brilliant shade of red. “I— uh…” he stammered. “Wanda said something about the two of you maybe appreciating a little of what you were missing.”

Sam bit hard on his bottom lip, whimpering with the effort not to comment. Natasha glance back at him over her shoulder with her eyebrows lifted. He tilted his head to her with a little nod, silently encouraging her to take the opportunity. She turned back to Steve with a wide grin.

“I don’t think there was anything little about it.”

**~*~*~ Capitol Hill Radio - Evening Broadcast ~*~*~**

_ “In a shocking turn of events this afternoon, Secretary of State Thaddeus Ross has been implicated in a number of high profile scandals. In addition to accusations of gross abuse of power in both more recent endeavors and in relation to the initial appearance of The Hulk, a source close to Secretary Ross alleges that he has romantic ties to a high-ranking member of H.Y.D.R.A. that was listed by name in the Black Widow’s famous S.H.I.E.L.D. data dump and is apparently still at large. A preliminary hearing has been set for a closed congressional session while officials debate how to approach these serious allegations.”  _

**~*~*~ Home ~*~*~**

Steve was waiting with his arms crossed and his most disapproving glare on his face when Natasha walked through the door of their suite at the Avenger’s facility. In contrast, Sam was sprawled over the couch with a beer in one hand and his sock feet propped on the coffee table, grinning with amusement. There was a large bagged gift in the middle of said coffee table with metallic red and gold streamers spilling over the sides. Something large and square was poking out of the top as though it had been opened and then unceremoniously dumped back into the bag.

“Is the glare because Tony set up an AI specifically to review your social media posts before you hit send or is it something else?” Nat asked as she unlaced her boots in the entryway. 

“You set up the Secretary of State,” Steve growled, his eyes narrowing. Behind his back, Sam tipped his beer at her in a silent toast, his grin widening even further.

“I don’t believe there is evidence to suggest that I did any such thing,” she insisted, her expression calm. She crossed her arms over her chest in a mirror of his pose, focusing a cool stare directly at Steve’s face. “That would be wrong.”

They stared at one another for several long moments, neither willing to budge. Between Steve’s stubbornness and Natasha’s many years as a spy they could probably stay that way for the better part of a week before one of them would break. Or, at least, they would have if not for Sam and his antics on the couch. He’d polished off his beer and was leaning back over the arm of the couch so he could balance the empty bottle on his forehead. Nat couldn’t help but crack a smile, so she twisted it into a smirk at the last second and threw another verbal barb in Steve’s direction.

“Regardless of how Ross ended up in the media’s crosshairs,” she began, “I should think you would be happy about it. After all, it’s pushed your sexy faux pas out of the public eye. Now it can fade away.”

The corner of Steve’s eye twitched. “Fade away?” He finally broke eye contact in order to turn to the coffee table. He snatched the black square from the gift bag. It was some sort of large black book with an image of his shield embossed on the cover. Steve opened the cover, flipped past the title page, and stomped over to Natasha with the next two-page spread on display between his hands. “Does this look like something that’s just going to fade away to you?”

Nat had to bite down on her tongue to keep from bursting into peals of raucous laughter on par with the cackles Sam was no longer trying to keep quiet. The pages were a bold red. On the left side was a clipping from the cover of US Weekly and a caption block with cramped black handwriting commemorating the date of the incident. Scattered across both pages were post-it flag sized printouts of some of the most entertaining tweets about the picture. Most of the right-hand page was taken up by a glossy, high resolution copy of the picture of Steve’s impressively-sized cock that the man had accidentally posted to his Instagram account. 

Across the top of both pages was a title that simply read ‘Baby’s First Indecent Exposure’.


End file.
